Mild Ink

1:53pm.  Done with shower.  New clothes.  Actually feel alive.  Thought again about going out for a drive, but I need to stay here, in chair, in the AE sea.  Turns out that was a different gardener.  Either way ready to pay him when he comes by.  Didn’t have his payment last time and was a whole thing.  My bad, for sure, so I paid him for two months.  Will do the same this time ‘round.

Someone on feed saying the UPS man is the real “wine guy”.  Haven’t ordered wine in a bit. Then I start thinking about wine, and me writing about it, AGAIN.  Why think, I think.  Just DO.  I open blinds, and switch mind into the wine beat and dream.

Tempted to have some of the Unti Syrah on the counter but I refrain.  Want to enjoy the wine dreams and visions more.  That and it’s only 2:01.  Looking outside for some idea, some something.  Should have gone out to the field today.  Here I am though, and what I’m “doing” is the AE walk.  I still have dreams of my first days in the tasting room, in ’06.  Teaching at however many campuses then working Sundays at St. Francis.  Everyone behind the bar with me was a close friend, and we were close.  Keep yourself there, I tell myself.  Those days.  No pressure, no analysis, just wine and people.

Every picture I’ve downloaded from my camera and saved to this laptop’s desktop is of either a vineyard or wine in a glass.  What does that say.. what does the story want me to tell, or speak.  I still think about the wine shop idea, and the winemaking fantasy, but then….  I don’t know.  Think I just want to stay a consumer who scribbles and types.

Posted to teaching blog, and emailed students.  Now I’m really ahead in the day’s place and space.  Have a call at 4, new inbound lead just landed.  April starts tomorrow.  Wow.  Sometimes I just want to tell time to STOP, but then I wouldn’t have the comparative of past and Now, what I want to live in the days approaching.  Full of thoughts and confusion – maybe not confusion, but something, something speaking to me.  Where’s the ’48 journal?  There it is, right next to me.  Moving too fast.  I’m known for that sometimes, I know.

No trip to Bottle Barn.  Wines here still to be tasted – Have Blair’s Petite Sirah, the second bottle, and a Balletto Chardonnay I think.  Put a Rosé in fridge last night, for Melissa.  She didn’t touch it but it’s chilled and sounding lovely now with all this sun and elevated temp.  Not yet, I tell self.  Hold off.  Write it.  Having a glass at the beach house, Monterey or Pacific Grove after a long day of work, making a surprising dent in the book.  Goddamn that phrase again, “the book”.  I’ve committed to 1000 words every day this year.  I better have AT LEAST two goddamn books by the time 1/1/22 parks.